


“Bloody well done.”

by LulaIsAKitten



Series: First Kisses [33]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 13:08:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15534921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/pseuds/LulaIsAKitten
Summary: Continuing the series of possible first kisses between these two.





	“Bloody well done.”

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SleepyEye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepyEye/gifts).



> A gift for SleepyEye. Thanks for the prompt!
> 
> “I've been thinking about something congratulatory, a "We did it! We won!" kind of kiss.”

Strike’s train of thought was broken by the sound of swift footsteps on the stairs, and the sudden opening of the office door. It banged back on its hinges and he jumped, startled. Before he could move from his desk, Robin was in his office, grinning broadly, her cheeks pink. “I got him!” she cried, triumphantly.

“Got who?” Strike asked, his brain scrambling to keep up.

“Corporate Guy’s leak,” she said. “And guess what? It wasn’t any of the directors I’ve been temping for all these weeks.”

Strike smiled at her, enjoying her delight. He could well remember how it felt, in his early career, to have finally solved a case that you’d been working on for a while. The satisfaction of a job well done had never left him, but this pure delight in discovery belonged to your first few cases.

He glanced at his watch, and held up a hand. “It’s after five,” he said. “That means you can legitimately tell me over a celebratory drink.”

Robin giggled. “We spend too much time in that pub,” she said, but she was happy to go. Strike grinned at her. “It’s a good pub. We’re supporting a local business,” he said. She laughed again and they set off, locking the office behind them.

“So, tell me all about it,” he said as they settled in the pub over their drinks. Robin took her mobile out of her bag and laid it on the table between them.

“Nathan said he’d ring once he’d confronted him,” she said. Strike hid a scowl at the mention of Corporate Guy’s given name. He had to admit to himself that part of his own delight at this case being solved, aside from Robin’s triumph, was the fact that she’d no longer be working for the handsome young entrepreneur, who had been getting in touch more and more often.

“Right,” Robin said. “Well, you know how Nathan suspected there was more than one leak, because he’d started only telling certain directors about certain developments, to see which way his main competitor would move?”

Strike nodded, sipping his pint. Her eyes were shining with the joy of discovery as she laid her theory in front of him. She had never looked more beautiful. He was captivated by her animation.

“But I could never find any evidence,” Robin went on. “No forwarded emails, no downloaded files. Turns out it wasn’t any of the directors. It was the caretaker who looks after the office building itself. He was a plant from the rival company, a skilled IT guy.” She enjoyed Strike’s raised eyebrows of surprise.

“That’s why I could never catch him in the act,” she said. “It all happened after hours when he was cleaning. He had keys to all the offices and the IT skills to hack into all the computers and other devices. He took pictures of the screens rather than download or email anything. And he tampered with the CCTV footage, just the odd minute here and there, to make it look like he was just cleaning. You had to watch very closely to see where the edits were, he’d made it look like he was just polishing the desks.”

Strike sat back and gazed at her admiringly. “Bloody well done, Robin,” he said, and she flushed with pleasure. “So what’s your actual evidence?”

“We planted a false story and he took the bait,” she said. “The guy whose computer we put it on knew, so it had to be someone else accessing that one computer. He’s the only other person who touched it that evening. So I went through the CCTV frame by frame, and you can see the edit. The security guy always pops out for a coffee and a cigarette while he cleans their station, so I’d mounted a secret camera in there and filmed him editing the footage.”

Strike nodded approvingly. “Conclusive proof,” he said. “So you’d already worked all this out?”

She grinned. “Yup,” she said. “Just had to set my trap to prove it. He’d got a little blasé, he’s been getting away with it for so long.”

“Excellent work,” Strike said. “Your first solo case, all wrapped up!”

Robin’s phone rang. Still pink, basking in Strike’s praise, she picked it up and swiped to answer it. Strike excused himself to go for a cigarette.

When he returned with another round of drinks she looked, if anything, even more delighted.

“That was Nathan,” she said. “The guy confessed and has been sacked, so we’ve closed the leak. Nathan just needs to decide if he’s going to take it any further, but that’s his choice now. I’ve told him I’ll send the full file over tomorrow once I’ve typed it all up.”

Strike sat and raised his pint to her. “In that case, congratulations,” he said warmly. “You’re now officially a successful detective with a solved case to your name.”

Robin couldn’t stop grinning. She felt slightly ridiculous to be so pleased - she and Strike had solved plenty of cases together. But this was the first case she’d officially taken solely in her name, and Strike had stepped right back and let her run it her way and make her own decisions on how to handle it. Weeks of fruitless searching for evidence had raised doubts in her mind that she was doing something wrong, missing an angle. But Strike had trusted in her and not interfered, and she had had her breakthrough and cracked it. It was a childhood dream, fulfilled - she had captured the bad guy alone.

“Thank you, Cormoran,” she said, suddenly. He looked surprised. “What for?” he asked.

“For believing in me. For letting me solve it my way. For giving me this job and the career I’ve always wanted.” She flushed a little at her own words. She was gushing now.

He smiled at her, so handsome suddenly. “You didn’t need my belief or approval,” he said. “This is the career that you were born for. I’m just lucky you landed on my doorstep and didn’t get snapped up by the Met.”

He raised his glass to her again. “You did it,” he said.

They clinked glasses and drank, and Robin set hers back down. She gave a sudden squeak of excitement and sat back, looking up at the ceiling, and then started laughing joyously.

Strike laughed too. “What?” he said.

“I’m a detective!” she cried, and her gaze returned to his. He was still grinning at her, and on impulse she leaned across and threw her arms round his neck, squeezing him fiercely.

He hugged her back, and there was a pause. Robin’s euphoria suddenly slid into something else, something more dangerous. She was acutely aware of the bulk of him pressed against her, his stubble against her cheek, his warm, smoky smell, and desire flooded her suddenly, catching her breath in her throat.

She pulled back a little, her eyes dark, seeking his, and saw that same feeling mirrored there.

“Robin...” It was a warning she ignored. She kissed him, slanting her mouth against his, and felt his reticence. This was a bad idea, she knew. They had an unspoken agreement not to do this. But the surge of emotion within her had turned to desire and she kissed him fiercely and he was lost. His tongue met hers as she sought to explore, their lips moving together.

There was a spell of quiet as they kissed, and then Strike came to his senses and drew back. “Robin...” he began again, but she just grinned cheekily at him and he laughed.

“Okay,” he said, and kissed her again.

 

 


End file.
